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poem for pastors

a noite era preta e drear
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
Ă© ido
carrinho aqui por meu lado
esplĂŞndido e terrĂ­vel seu amor
quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nĂłs na obscuridade
nĂŁo se aflija que sobre

 



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